I'll Go Through Life Either First Class

I Love Criticism Just So Long As It's Unqualified Praise.

An Infant Prodigy Of Nine Is Shoved Upon The Stage In White. She Starts Off In A Dismal Whine About A Dark And Stormy Night, A Burglar, Whose Heart Is True, Despite His Wicked-looking Face, Who Puts The Little Child In Doom, To Save Her Mamma's Jewel Case. This May Bring Tears To Every Eye; It Does Not Set My Heart On Fire. I'd Like To Stand Serenely By And Watch That Horrid Child Expire.

I'll Go Through Life Either First Class Or Third, But Never In Second.

The Higher The Building The Lower The Morals.

Trust Your Instincts. If You Have No Instincts, Trust Your Impulses.